


My Idea of You

by GStK



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game), 刀剣乱舞 | Touken Ranbu
Genre: Crossover, Feudal Japan AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:59:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GStK/pseuds/GStK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You cannot save people. You can only love them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Idea of You

**Author's Note:**

> Vague. Light spoilers for Enstars' "Rebellion" event.   
> Less explanatory, more a scene in the life.

‘ _Aruji_. You’re going to die.’

Eichi stifles a chuckle. What he gives, then, is an easy laugh, not looking up from his preparation of the tea.

‘Indeed. All of us will; it’s our destiny.’ When he passes the teacup over, he adds, ‘Perhaps you won’t. Though… all metal rusts eventually.’

And so Mikazuki laughs and agrees. ‘I suppose it does.’

It’s a lovely day outside. They sit on the _engawa_ , overlooking endless gardens and blue skies – hardly the setting for talk of death. But Mikazuki Munechika wears a thoughtful look that makes his dark eyes shine. His accessories gleam, just as they always do, but it is his eyes that draw you in.

Mikazuki does not speak again until Eichi invites him with words of his own. ‘You’re not worried about losing me as a master, but,’ he says, ‘Something else. I wonder what.’

‘No, just pondering,’ Mikazuki answers. They talk in such circles, sometimes, that Eichi finds himself dizzy. ‘I have not often had the chance to feel my master’s grip weakening over time. It’s surprisingly pleasant.’

Aruji. _You’re going to die_.

‘But nice, too, is having things to worry about.’ The fall of Mikazuki’s sleeve brushes his knee as the sword sips his tea. ‘Like where I will go after you pass. Back to your family, I imagine? I am a Tenshouin treasure.’

‘I wouldn’t count on that,’ Eichi responds, and he means many, many things.

Three more months: that has been his motto for two decades. But he is still here.

He has still accomplished so much, all in the name of boredom.

Perhaps Mikazuki notices the tension in his expression. He extends a hand and lays it over his blade, sitting between them, and it is so close to Eichi’s open palm it is like touching him. ‘I’ve never counted on anything with you, Aruji. As I recall,’—he smiles, here—‘You weren’t even meant to wield me.’

And so he wasn’t.

— a scholar, they’d said. A man of the law, a court official. An ascetic, even, if he so wished. Eichi was fortunate to be born to fortune – that wealth should make his condition less of a tragedy, more of an impediment. The roads available to him were limited, but hardly more than a beggar on the street.

And he had replied: I am no beggar. And he had taken up the sword anyway.

He had forged his path in blood.

‘They call you the Emperor,’ Mikazuki acknowledges, mouth in the shape of that crescent moon he represents. ‘I have lived a thousand years, and yet that title remains. Hahaha.’

‘’cept it doesn’t really mean much,’ another voice cuts in. Leo arrives like a bomb sent by a grenadier: explosive, jarring, and yet, not very harmful at all. He tumbles in with his sword drawn, but it’s strapped to his back with his _shamisen_. Haphazard, as always. ‘What’s important is the _shogun_. And you know what my knights used to call me? Lord shogun! Wahaha!’

‘And while I’m pleased the little lord shogun has joined us,’ Eichi returns, ‘You don’t typically care to listen to us. What’s the occasion?’

What _is_ typical is how Leo doesn’t care that he’s interrupting. He shuffles about in the room behind them, searching cabinets and beneath the _tatami_. ‘Brush,’ he replies curtly. ‘I need to write this down before the inspiration fades.’

And yet. Eichi watches instead of helping him. ‘You’re not very rushed today.’

‘Well –‘ Leo interrupts himself to hold up the brush he’s found under the table, crowing in triumph. He slides paper and an inkwell out of his bag, sets himself down with a _thump_. He makes a fussy motion until Mikazuki passes over a cup with which to wet the inkstone.

If he meant to offer explanation, he never does. The slide of a wolf’s hair brush meeting paper is his only answer, impatiently tapping his foot to an unknown beat of music.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mikazuki looks like he’s drowsing. When Eichi glances over, Mikazuki is picturesque and wide-awake, smiling in his mysterious little way.

When Leo slumps over the table, it’s clear the spirit of Benzaiten has finally left him.

‘Good work,’ Eichi says, a touch sarcastically. Leo grumbles a curse at him.

‘If you’ve nothing better to do –‘ Mikazuki pauses when Leo lifts his head to look at him. ‘Perhaps you might sheathe your sword. I was hoping to see Tsurumaru before you left tonight.’

‘Urgh! I’m not leaving until I finish this song!’ Leo complains, but he does as he’s asked. When blade and scabbard are reunited, a dim light fills the whole room. It gives way to Tsurumaru, who stretches noisily before laying himself out on the tatami.

‘Surprise,’ he says tiredly. He reaches his arms out and, without looking, manages to drop his hands into Mikazuki’s lap. Mikazuki sets his cup down and gathers them into his own. ‘Aruji, I’m not complaining – but sheathe a guy when you’re done with him, won’t you? I’m all sore.’

‘You’re staying?’ Eichi asks over him. He looks past Tsurumaru, finds Leo’s gaze.

‘… one more day,’ the man replies. He looks nervous, frustrated, without words; a lot of things. ‘That’s it.’

Eichi says nothing of how it’s been _one more day_ for the last six days. ‘I’m glad.’

Mikazuki, however, does. ‘Are you running from your clan, Lord Tsukinaga?’ Leo gives him a sour look; Mikazuki continues before he can make an excuse. ‘Haha, I mean no offence. This time reminds me of when you and my master dueled, and you ran away.’

‘I didn’t run!’ Leo argues. ‘I was dragged to hell – I escaped Izanami! See, I’m amazing!’

‘It might as well have been _yomi_ ,’ Tsurumaru mutters. An unpleasant look crosses his face. ‘I wouldn’t go through most of that stuff again.’

The topic drifts away. It has a habit of doing that when any of them talk. Eichi stands at the fork in the river, and he wonders – if he’ll be dragged to hell, too, and if he’ll have that chance to escape.

From what Mikazuki says, he won’t be long in finding out.

(Mostly, though, he feels – nostalgic, for the pain in Leo’s eyes when he lost, for the excitement that danced in his own. He wants, for those moments when he had taunted Leo at his inability with a blade, his foreign looks and how they had kept him from working as a sellsword. No patron would want such a whimsical musician, either, and Leo had been trapped – and Leo had known, and gritted his teeth painfully.

Mostly, Eichi feels happy, for the knowledge that the man he loves will stay one more night.

Death means nothing to either of these things.)

‘When you finish that song of yours,’ Eichi says suddenly, ‘I’ll buy it from you.’

‘ _Huh_?’ Leo gives him a sceptical look. Tsurumaru just stares at him, his half-spoken sentence fading away. ‘You can’t just _buy a song_. Money can’t get you everything, you boneheaded Emperor.’

No, it can’t. Money can’t buy him a longer life or more moments with Leo Tsukinaga. But it can let him leave his mark. ‘When it’s finished,’ Eichi emphasises, ‘You can only play it for me. No one else can hear it. That’s what I mean.’

Leo does not look convinced. ‘This song is legendary. I’m a genius. You know how much you’d have to pay, right? Wahaha! You’re so dumb!’

‘As payment, I’ll give you my sword. Mikazuki Munechika.’ Eichi looks to the side. ‘A masterpiece for a masterpiece. Fitting, don’t you think?’

Tsurumaru looks torn between confusion and amazement. Mikazuki looks greatly surprised, but all the better for it: he touches his chin and smiles. Leo is deathly silent.

When Eichi looks at him, his expression is a mix of many things. Like sword, like master.

‘… you know,’ Tsurumaru says in the quiet, ‘He was already composing it for y—‘

‘AHH!’ Leo yells, making Tsurumaru jump. He jumps to his feet and throws himself at Eichi, dragging him into a kiss. It’s over in seconds – he propels himself backwards, audibly gasping when they part. His arms flail and he trips over himself in his haste to grab his implements. ‘Inspiration! I need to chase it!’

He nearly launches out of the room, but Tsurumaru yells at him to stop: he flings his sword at its accompanying spirit before he takes off, disappearing into Eichi’s mansion in a flurry of humming and laughter.

Tsurumaru looks a little dazed. Mikazuki runs his hands through his hair to calm him, and looks up at Eichi when he stands. ‘Aruji,’ he hails. ‘Are you going after him?’

‘I suppose I must.’ In a show of inelegance, Eichi wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Mikazuki’s mouth curls. ‘I can’t have him writing on the walls again.’

‘And yet,’ Mikazuki remarks, ‘It’s natural for men to want to leave their mark before they die. Something I think you’ve come to understand.’

Eichi stares at him, and with the voice of an emperor, says, ‘We’ll see.’

_We’ll see if I die_.

Mikazuki means to say more, but Tsurumaru’s hands fly to his sides. He leaves them there, a laughing, fighting mess. He descends into the halls of everything he has built up, and if the air smells a little of blood, he pays it no mind.

Death, then. And love. And power. And wanting.

So music, too, and swords clashing. His heart dancing.

‘How sad,’ he murmurs, ‘That I’ve come to fear these things.’

That he’s come to understand these things.

But just as metal rusts, just as people die, just as spirits fall in love –

It’s destiny.

Eichi follows the sound of Leo’s trailing voice. As ever, the sun shines outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary adapted from quotes by Anaïs Nin.  
> Probably the strangest AU I'll ever write.


End file.
